


Fucking Grimmjow and his stupid face

by conspiracygudao



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Injury, Gen, Masturbation, No Plot/Plotless, this is a little wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13873680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conspiracygudao/pseuds/conspiracygudao
Summary: Just a drunk Grimmjow being the irremediable little shit he is while jacking off in Ulquiorra's car.





	Fucking Grimmjow and his stupid face

**Author's Note:**

> hola hola bleach fandom, this is a gift from my present 22yo self to my past 12yo self.

* * *

“The fuck you want?”

That’s how most of his nights out ended. Jaw clenching, knuckles turning white and eyes glaring at the unlucky bastard that decided to mess with him. Grimmjow is staring down at some random dude in a shitty bar at god knows what hours of a Thursday. Apparently, random dude isn’t a fan of Grimmjow staring for too long at what he assumes is random dude’s girlfriend. _Well, too fucking bad._ It’s not the first time he’s caught eyeing someone else’s woman and definitely not the last time he will get in trouble because of it.

A crowd is starting to gather around both men and the old owner is trying to separate them by pushing Grimmjow by the shoulder. The later only needs to shake the older man off and narrow his eyes to make him back away. When he returns his eyes to random dude, he notices that he’s saying something but the alcohol in his system makes it impossible to understand all the words coming out of the guy’s mouth. But he doesn’t need to get everything to know what random dude’s moaning about. Grimmjow grins. “Of course I was staring. She’s fine as f-”

Suddenly, there’s a burning pain in his jaw that gets number as seconds pass by. Grimmjow gives a couple steps back and the white noise from before becomes louder, much louder than the background music. There’s a quick movement before his eyes that he could have easily registered and evaded had he been in a sober state. The pain returns. His head’s ringing. Numbness is spreading from his nose to the rest of his face and he can taste iron on his tongue. Something is dripping from his nose and, when runs his hand under it, he sees blood. His blood.

Again, Grimmjow grins like a fucking maniac. It took him a moment too long to understand that random dude had _the nerve_ to hit him in the face. His eyes focus on the guy’s face and the later realizes that he fucked up big time. Grimmjow takes a step forward and the other steps back, but the crowd around them make it impossible for him to run away. _Random dude was the first to throw a punch so this counts as self-defense, right?_ In all honesty, he doesn’t care. His mind is a mess of disconnected thoughts and there’s a throbbing he can’t get rid of, but he doesn’t need to think to be able to kick some motherfucker’s ass. His body moves on automatic and, before others can interfere, he’s on top of random dude. 

* * *

When he opens his eyes again, the ceiling of the unknown bar has been replaced by a grey roof of an old car. _Strange_. Grimmjow tries to sit up and immediately regrets everything that he has done in life. Everything around him is spinning and there’s a numb throbbing in the back of his head. He grabs one of the fake leather seats with one hand for support and rubs his temples with the other. With his head hanging low and experiencing a pain he knows too well, Grimmjow attempts to pay attention to his surroundings. A deadpanned voice is lecturing him and Grimmjow only wants it to shut up. “Trash,” The voice says and he quickly identifies it as Sad face’s voice.

Ulquiorra is probably complaining and telling him how shitty his existence is and, in all honesty, that’s a speech Grimmjow knows perfectly well and has no intention of listening to for the nth time. He swallows and makes a face before rubbing his throat. His voice still sounds hoarse when he talks. “Whatever. Did I win?” Wait, they’re moving. Has Sad face been driving all this time?

The driver keeps his eyes on the road but a slight annoyance contaminates his usually monotone tone. “Is that the only thing you care about?” Grimmjow nods, an action he can’t see but can assume from the silence that followed his question. Ulquiorra inhales but holds back the sigh that’s about leave his lips. “You knocked him out.” He doesn’t need to turn around to know Grimmjow is grinning. “Then, you slipped, hit the back of your head on the edge of a table and passed out like the trash you’re.”

So that’s why his head’s hurting like a bitch, huh? Grimmjow frowns and lifts his head a little. It really hurts. He’s surprised he’s not bleeding. “Oi. Isn’t it dangerous to pass out from a head injury?”

“For normal humans, yes. For a waste of space like you? I’m not getting my hopes up.” Ulquiorra’s answer comes so fast that Grimmjow wonders if he had practiced what to say while he was passed out.

Grimmjow narrows his eyes. “I’m going to kill you.” But his balance is all over the place so he couldn’t land a punch on the pipsqueak even if he tried his damn best. Sad face is also driving and Grimmjow is smarter than to distract the driver. But that doesn’t mean that he has to be happy about any of this. He grits his teeth and rests his back against the seat behind him. “Dammit.”

Dammit all. His head’s still spinning and he can feel the vomit coming all the way up. The man closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can’t throw up in Sad face’s car. He can’t unless he wants the tiny fucker to kick him out of the car in the middle of nowhere at ungodly hours and he’s not going to repeat the same mistake again.

Grimmjow’s trying his damn best to not throw up all over the car’s backseats but, of course, that’s not enough for Sad face, who is bitchy enough turn up the volume of his shitty, loud music. That’s certainly not helping his headache. _Fucker_. But he’s not going to ask him to turn that shit off. He would rather be left in a cornfield than _beg_ to the tiny bastard.

The throbbing is not going away but he’s getting used to the pain so whatever. Grimmjow’s hand lets go of his temples and, at first, he only sees blurry shapes, but once he gets used to the lighting he can discern the shape of his hand. His eyes widen at the state of it. Some of the skin of his knuckles has been ripped and he wonders if the white stuff is either bone or some kind of ligament. _Damn_. He must have hit random dude pretty hard. That thought alone gives him a sense of satisfaction that inflates his chest and makes him bite his lower lip.

It takes little time for that satisfaction to travel south.

Grimmjow looks down and groans at the sight of the boner hiding behind his blue jeans. He glances up at Sad face, who still has his eyes on the road and probably enjoying the fact that he’s making him suffer with his loud and shitty music. He won’t notice _shit_. Without thinking it twice, Grimmjow palms his erection and covers his mouth with his other arm. A low groan escapes from his throat and dies on the bicep pressing against his mouth. He grinds his hips upwards and moans as pleasure travels from his crotch to his head and melts on his brain. It feels much nicer than the headache that has been torturing him since he woke up. 

It takes too long to undo the buttons of his jeans and get his painful erection out of them. The cold air makes him buckle his hips against nothingness and bite the arm that’s practically suffocating him. His free hand grabs the head of his cock and pumps himself a couple times before running his thumb over the tip. Grimmjow groans and bites harder on his bicep while thinking of the boobs of the woman that got him in his current situation. She had been worth every hit he received. A damn shame he wasn’t able to bring her to his apartment or get her number. Thank god he is sober enough to remember her curves and flirty glances. _What a bitch_. He loved that. They could have had so much if her boyfriend hadn’t been an overzealous asshole. 

Once again, Grimmjow groans against his arm and laps the droplets of blood that have started appearing thanks to his constant biting. He grins while thinking of how he got manhandled by random dude at first and the blood he spilled over him. There shouldn’t be anything enjoyable about the roughness of his fingers but the insatiable lust that overcame him keeps him hard and running towards the end. Pain is like a drug to him, but it’s easier to enjoy it when alcohol numbs his inhibitions and Sad face’s music makes it impossible to listen to the warnings his nervous system is sending to him. Little, self-inflicted sparks of pain make everything feel more real, they remind him that he’s alive and make his pleasure ache so goddamn good. He will never get enough of them.

The skin of his arm is breaking and the muscles underneath twitch whenever they come in contact with his teeth. The taste of his blood is metallic, salty and addictive. He thinks of the moment he got on top of random dude and beat the crap out of him. He thinks of the fight, the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the pleasure running from his cock to his guts and the joy of winning and crowning himself king. It’s all too much. His hand moves at a pace that’s too fast for the hyper-sensible skin of his cock but he can’t get enough of it. Grimmjow bites harder on his arm and barely registers the pain alarming his brain to stop. He’s close, so fucking close that he can’t stop now.

“Fuck!” A wave of pleasure crashes on his lower body too fast, too soon, but he doesn’t care. He can’t care. He’s too overwhelmed by the pleasure poisoning him to notice the undignified moans falling from his mouth. Grimmjow is thrusting his hips against the palm of his hand and letting his seed spill on the seat in front of him. He then uncovers his mouth and licks the remaining blood on his lips. With his eyes closed, he pants and lets his head fall back. The hand he used to jack off is starting to feel gross so he cleans himself in the backseat of Sad face’s car and tucks his flaccid cock back in his jeans.

The afterglow would’ve lasted longer if said Sad face hadn’t decided to stop the vehicle and turn around. “Did you just…?” Ulquiorra never loses his composure but Grimmjow doesn’t need to look at him to know how much Sad face’s hating him, loathing him and wishing him to just die on a corner. The insults that follow only serve to confirm his theory. “You’re worse than trash. You’re the most disgusting creature on earth.”

He really doesn’t care. Sad face is throwing insults left and right and telling him stuff he already knows so Grimmjow only sends him his trademark grin before replying back. “Serves your right, fucker.”

After that, his mind turned foggy again and he can only remember being thrown somewhere that isn’t his crappy apartment. He remembers feeling cold and uncomfortable before passing out. Next thing he knows is that he, Grimmjow Jaggerjaquez, is waking up at 11 am in the middle of a cornfield.

_This is new._

 

 


End file.
